Moonlight
by opalish
Summary: Sometimes, Remus hates the moon. He hates the deceptive way it glows, all purity and innocence. He hates the pretense, how the moon can make the night seem less cold, less deadly.


Disclaimer: Characters and HPverse belong to JKR. I am not JKR. Ergo, I do not own HP.

I seem to be in something of a philosophical mood lately. This is rather similar to my recent oneshot 'Heaven' in both mood and premise, though rather more extensive, as it encompasses three points of view rather than just one.

I might add Dumbledore's POV later, just to tie everything in. Then again, I probably won't.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Sometimes, Remus hates the moon.

He hates the deceptive way it glows, all purity and innocence. He hates the pretense, how the moon can make the night seem less cold, less deadly.

But the night can't be anything other than cold and deadly; after all, its sole purpose is to destroy the day.

That's all right by Remus, though. What nags at him is not the night itself, but the moon and the stars. He can't help feeling that if there has to be darkness, then that darkness should be absolute. Starlight and moonlight...nothing but harbingers of false hope. They aren't real, they will never be real; in truth, there's nothing in the night sky but the empty desolation of eternity.

He's one of the few who knows the moon's true nature. So pretty, hiding such poison...

The day is more honest. There are shadows, storms that obscure the sun, portents of hardships yet to come.

The night, though, the night is contaminated by the moon. There's no light in the darkness, and 'shades of gray' is just an easy lie. Black and white, that's all there is, mixed so finely that sometimes it's impossible to tell the difference.

There's a constant battle within himself - _is this right? am i wrong? do i want this, or is it the wolf creeping through, is it the monster in me begging for release?_

He's good at suppressing the beast within.

He knows, deep down, that everyone has a similar personal conflict, that everyone has their own monster inside. Few are as good as he is at chaining and caging it.

But the moon negates his efforts, frees the monster. The moon cages _him_, chains _him_, and lets the beast roam free.

Remus hates himself for needing this respite from constant iron self-control. He hates himself for needing to let go, to let the beast out. Most of all, he hates himself for succumbing to the moon's false freedoms.

And sometimes, when he can't stand to hate himself any longer, he hates the moon instead.

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When Luna looks at the moon, she sees a mother.

Not _her_ mother, necessarily; though Diana Lovegood had shone throughout her tragically short life, she hadn't been so bright as the moon itself. A star, perhaps, glittering in the distance, but nothing so immediate and grand as the moon.

But Luna is named after the moon, and she's long known that names are important in their own way. She does not believe that names have any inherent power, though wizarding tradition certainly dictates otherwise - but then, Luna doesn't think that anything is naturally imbued with power.

Power is an illusion, she knows, and exists only in the mind. People and things and ideas only have power when it is given to them.

Nevertheless, she sometimes feels that there's something special in her name. She quite likes the moon and always has, and being named for it is an honor she's glad to have been given.

The moon is a sign of hope. It shines in the darkness with the sun's reflected brilliance, a reminder that daylight isn't so very far away, and that the night itself has its familiarities as well as its mysteries.

For months after her mother died, Luna spent long hours studying the moon out her window, letting its presence soothe her and heal her. As long as she could see it, she knew everything would eventually turn out right, that everything would be better in the morning.

The moon, Luna feels, acts exactly as a mother ought. It comforts and inspires dreams, and is always there, warm and waiting, even when it can't be seen.

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To Severus Snape, the moon is little more than a convenience. It lights his way on nights spent gathering potions ingredients, and it allows him to make draughts that can only be mixed by a full or sickle moon.

At times, the moon can be an annoyance. Several potions can only be concocted on a moonless night, which often conflicts with his schedule.

He rarely goes any more in depth in his analysis of the moon's importance, mostly because he has little patience for symbolism or anything but the obvious.

The sun is the sun, the moon is the moon, night is night and day is day, and any deeper meanings hold true only to lackwits who waste their time pondering such inanities.

Severus doesn't consider himself cynical. He believes himself to be a realist; he believes he sees matters as they truly are, which means there is little room in his mind left for dreams and ridiculous living metaphors. The moon is something to be used; it is nothing more than a convenient tool.

Anything else is nonsense.


End file.
